The Five Things
by Amnesie
Summary: Izzie learns the five things she shouldn't do with her enemy, in this case, Mark! McStizzie fun
1. Introduction

Prologue

As much as we might not like it, we all have enemies. Some exist that we don't know about, while others are of our own choosing. There are those that we just don't get along with, while with others we have tried and failed. Some are easy to ignore. Others?

Not so much.

She firmly believed she had every reason to dislike him. Mark Sloan was a manwhore and she was fundamentally against his kind. He made interns fetch him cappuccinos and blueberry scones instead of teaching them the complex procedures they were there to learn. Either he didn't care about the future of medicine or he thought he'd live forever; each was a distasteful thought.

He hit on practically every woman he laid his eyes upon, from anonymous women in bars to hospital receptionists, nurses, and doctors: Addison, Callie, and Meredith included. Yeah, she knew about the way he'd tried to come on to Meredith recently. Seriously? The guy was trouble. Worse, he was an adulterer and she could relate to that… which made her despise him even more.

If there was one doctor in the hospital she wanted to spend the least amount of time with, it was him (or Callie). But, of course, they were stuck together. Everyone else was complicatedly involved in their inter-hospital romances and they- she and he- were the odd people out.

They were spending a great deal of time together- too much time. She was always assigned to him and, by God, his incessant presence in her daily life was irritating. He drove her crazy… as if he was constantly pushing her to the brink and trying to tempt her into jumping off. With that mischievous grin and assistance from the devil himself, he probably could.

One day she'd snap. She'd take the jump. She'd teach him that Izzie Stevens was not a woman to be messed with.

Unfortunately, she'd learn something else in return. She would soon find out that there are five things you shouldn't do with your enemy.


	2. Number 1

The steamy contents of the cup splashed onto a nearby chart as she slammed the Styrofoam container onto his desk. He watched as the liquid quickly pooled on the paper, blurring its words, before standing up and grabbing the napkin she carried out of her hands.

"Good morning, Dr. Stevens. Don't worry, I'm sure I didn't need to know that part of the patient's history," he said sarcastically, addressing her with a lethal glare.

She threw her shoulders back, standing up proudly. "Just so you know, " she told him coldly, "that is the last time I will ever bring you coffee."

He raised a brow in amusement. "Is that so?"

She nodded resolutely. "Mark my words."

He settled back in his chair, taking in her defiance. "What if I banned you from any surgeries?"

"Then you would be an ass," she told him with a fiery glare. "One who shouldn't be at a_ teaching _hospital. Now that I mention it… why don't you just go home?"

Her hopefulness with that last thought made him chuckle. "Not on your life, Stevens. I wouldn't want you to miss me."

She rolled her eyes. "I'd be heartbroken, that's for sure, but maybe I'd get assigned to someone who could, you know, teach me something."

He slowly walked around to the other side of the desk, coming to stand within mere inches of her. His eyes trailed a slow path over her body before meeting hers with a leering gaze.

"I can teach you anything you want to know- and then some."

Her hands went to her lips as she met his look boldly. "Don't confuse me with your stripper friends or a cocktail waitress. Your… charm," she spat at him, "doesn't impress me. The only way you'll have me on my knees is if I'm thanking God for sending you to Hell."

"I'm not usually into the Catholic school girl thing, but I suppose I could make an exception…"

"Fuck you," she cut him off, jabbing her finger into his chest.

He caught her hand and gripped it tightly. "That's the spirit. What naughty words for such a little Girl Scout."

She shoved him away with her free hand and headed straight for the door. "I hate you."

He glanced at his desk and then back at her retreating figure.

"No scone?," he called out to her questioningly.

"No scone!"

* * *

As if being an intern wasn't hard enough, she had to deal with near death experiences, broken hearts, and Mark Sloan. The last was enough to drive any woman crazy, but she had to admit her fury at him usually took her mind off of other things- things like George. It had been a few weeks since they'd slept together or even kissed, but she still thought about what they'd done. It wasn't so much intimacy with him she ached for anymore, but rather just _him_. How quickly their friendship had been soured, seemingly irreparably broken. When had it become so disposable? When had she?

Whether it was lucky or not, she had other things to keep her mind busy.

She walked into the hospital early in the morning, beating dawn's arrival at Seattle Grace. On her path to the locker room, she was passed by Mark Sloan, who looked down at her empty hands disapprovingly. She rolled her eyes; she'd told him yesterday she was done being his servant girl.

After completing rounds with her friends, she was unsurprised to be assigned to him by Dr. Bailey, though the familiarity of the situation didn't stop her from letting out a groan. Alex patted her sympathetically on the shoulder while Christina shot her an amused look. It really wasn't funny.

She found him standing over a patient's bed conversing lightly with the man. He grinned at her approach.

"Choosing to work with me today, Dr. Stevens? I knew you found me irresistible and - can I say - I'm flattered."

"It was either this or scut," she told him with a wry smile.

"Still.. Not just yesterday you would have run the other way."

"Still thinking about it, actually."

He turned back to his patient with a mischievous smirk. "Mr. Matthews, tell her to stay and work with us today."

The elderly man with a jagged scar on his check grinned impishly. "I would be happy to have your assistance."

She couldn't refuse a frail old man and Sloan knew it. She sent a gentle smile the patient's way before glaring at the attending, shaking her head in disapproval.

He ignored her. "Alright, sounds like a plan."

Looking down at his watch, he told the other man, "Mr. Matthews, I will be back in about an hour to prep you for your surgery. Hang tight."

The man nodded and the pair of doctors took their leave. Once outside, Sloan turned to her. "So he gets your assistance, but I don't?"

She scoffed and began walking away from him. "As if you need it."

He grabbed her wrist before she had gone too far and pulled her into the nearest room- a supply closet. He held her against the door with his body, his hands above her head.

"Uh uh. I do need you… Dr. Stevens."

His throaty voice sent a shudder coursing through her body. Her heartbeat quickened, echoing erratically in her ears. She squirmed beneath him, half-heartedly protesting his position against her.

"I think we've already gone over how I don't need you, Dr. Sloan."

He dropped his head to whisper into her ear, his warm breath hitting a sensitive spot on her neck. She went weak.

"I don't think you put up much of a fight, Izzie. But I urge you now… push me away."

Her hands slowly rose up his solid chest, the muscle beneath them warming her skin. She pushed gently against him, but instead of shoving him farther from her body, her hands slide over onto the lapels of his lab coat, grabbing them tightly. She slowly peeled the white fabric over his broad shoulders, inched it carefully past each fully defined muscle of his arms, before allowing it to drop casually to the floor.

He grinned and seized her mouth hungrily. She matched him move for move and quickly deepened the kiss, her tongue plunging desperately into his hot mouth. He grabbed at her roughly, a crazed man needing only more… _more_. He pulled at her hair, tugging at the clip holding it captive, away from his itching fingers. The metal barrier hit the floor with a clang as her blonde locks pooled unfettered into his hands.

She clutched at his shirt, hastily, awkwardly, undoing its buttons. His mouth moved to the curve of her neck, gently nipping at her skin. She moaned throatily, impelling him forward, and he pushed himself against her more firmly. She grazed her nails over the spot on his back where his undershirt had ridden up; He pulled away as if scorched by her touch.

"Stevens," he groaned haggardly.

"I'm not Stevens and you're not Sloan," she told him assertively before pulling her scrub shirt over her head and dramatically dropping it to the side.

He moaned at the sight of her, her breasts only separated from his touch by her cotton bra. His hands rose to her sides, coming up to softly cup her in his palms. He skimmed his thumbs over her covered nipples and she gasped, breathing heavily in uneven pants. She reached down and tugged firmly at his belt. He looked up and met her eyes.

"Fuck me."

A man doesn't say no to that.

* * *

Afterwards, he caught her as she threatened to slide down the door; it had been a staggering experience. It had been… unexpected.

He caught his breath and ran a hand over her smooth skin. "That was…"

"A mistake," she said abruptly, cutting him off.

"Delightful," he commented. "That's what I was going to say."

They dressed in silence and she put her hair back into her clip. Seeing her unsure of how well she'd readjusted herself, he said with a smile, "You look good."

She glared at him before opening the door. "This never happened."

* * *

**_The first thing you should never do with your enemy: Have sex with him. This one should be easy. He is your enemy, after all. But when passions erupt, it can be hard to control them… to exercise them the way you'd choose if you were thinking rationally. Sex? It's not logical. What it can be, however, is mind-blowing and bone-melting… Yes, even with your enemy._**


	3. Number 2

Thanks to Team McStizzie for the inspiration and especially Blair for the great idea I "stole"! Thanks to everyone who reads and/or reviews!

* * *

The Chief looked up from his paperwork upon hearing the rap upon his door. Mark Sloan confidently walked in and dropped down into one of the seats in front of him.

"I've decided I'd like to attend the conference in New York that we talked about earlier… if that's okay with you."

Richard looked at him curiously. "You're actually asking for my permission?"

Sloan grinned amusedly. "I thought it'd be professional to do so."

"I appreciate that," Richard replied slowly. He scrutinized the attending carefully, taking in the other man's laidback posture and devil-may-care attitude. "I get the feeling you're wanting to go just to check out the competition."

The response he received came as a hearty laugh. Mark crossed his arms lazily and slung one leg over the other as he regained his composure. "Well, I have a hard time believing that someone has discovered a plastic surgery technique that I haven't thought of yet. I need to see it with my own eyes in order to believe it."

Richard grinned despite himself. "Your confidence is amazing, but I will admit, it's well deserved."

He paused and ran his eyes over the doctor. "Not going to fall back in love with New York while you're there, are you?"

Sloan shook his head, a smirk coming to form upon his face. "Nah. Been there, done that. I just got used to Seattle and it has… possibilities."

Richard nodded his head confidently. "That's what I've always said." He had either missed the trace of mischievousness in the attending's tone or had simply become unfazed by it.

Mark stood up, preparing to leave. "So the conference is okay?"

The Chief sat back in his chair and signaled his agreement with a distracted hand wave. "Sure. Uh… take an intern, too."

"What?" His wide eyes and opened mouth made evident Sloan's surprise. It was widely known that he wasn't one for teaching or taking inferiors under his wing. He hadn't been expecting to have company.

However, the Chief reaffirmed his decision with a commanding nod. "It'll be a good experience for one of them." Upon observing Mark's questioning look, he remarked "Karev's previously shown an interest in plastics."

"You'd never know it," Sloan replied bitterly. Recently, Alex didn't seem to know there was anything beyond Addison Montgomery and the neonatal ward.

Richard shrugged. "Well, whomever. Your choice. Let them fight for it."

Mark ran a hand through his hair tensely. He gave the Chief a half-hearted smile in thanks before leaving the older man's office.

An intern. Great. Just what he needed.

* * *

By the time rounds started for the interns that morning, news of the chance to attend a medical conference had reached everyone's ears. Surprisingly, however, there was only one willing surgical candidate.

Sloan walked by Dr. Bailey and her crew as they moved from patient to patient. The resident saw him pass and called out to him loudly.

"Dr. Sloan, which of these fools do you want today?"

He stopped and backtracked a little in order to examine his choices. O'Malley was looking everywhere but at him, Karev had his eyes downcast and was secretly crossing his fingers behind his back, Yang was staring at him blatantly, but disinterestedly, Grey had a small smile on her face, and Stevens? Well she seemed to be feigning deafness, completely looking in the opposite direction.

He felt like chuckling. She was so obvious. Instead, he shook his head in mock disappointment and sighed. "I'll take… Grey."

Izzie whipped around, her eyes widened with astonishment, replicating the look upon Meredith's face. He ran his eyes leisurely over Steven's figure, palpably enough that she would feel his scrutiny, and unhurriedly met her eyes. He winked. She scowled.

Minutes later, Meredith met up with him as he filled out paperwork at a nurse's station.

"Me? You picked me?"

He glanced over at her . She had propped her back against the desk and crossed her arms in an inquisitive manner. He rolled his eyes.

"I did."

"Why?"

He leaned in to her, as if preparing to whisper. "To make Stevens jealous." Upon her gasp, he shook his head. "Actually, you were the only one who looked happy to see me. I can't turn away a willing woman."

She laughed off his suggestiveness. "So I hear you're going to New York."

"That's right."

"Need some company?"

He looked at her attentively, trying to read her eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew why she was so intent to get away. It didn't take him long to remember..

"No. No way. I don't care if you're having problems, but I am not getting in between Derek and a woman ever again."

She crossed her arms and glared, symbolically challenging him to deny her. "That's not very professional."

He struck a similar pose. "Neither is getting involved with your boss, but that doesn't stop half of the people in this hospital, yourself included. You made your bed. Lie in it."

* * *

Izzie had been enjoying a relatively stress-free day away from _him_, when she felt the familiar dark cloud above her.

"Seriously? I knew it was too good to be true."

He smiled at her distress at his presence. "Had to give you a chance to miss me. Did it work?"

"No."

He grinned wider. Stubbornness was a turn on, especially when matched with a gorgeous blonde. He gazed down at her as she studied a chart, head bent, trying to ignore him. He moved to stand behind her, positioning himself so that his lower body was right behind hers.

"I guess absence doesn't make the heart grow fonder. Well, that's okay. We'll be spending a lot of time together soon enough."

This caught her attention. She whipped her head up in surprise. "What are you talking about? Oh, no…"

He ran his fingers down the sides of her body slowly, tantalizingly. His breath was sickeningly hot against her right ear.

"That's right. You've won an all-expense paid trip to New York with yours truly. The nurses are going to hate you."

She didn't dare turn around, knowing with full certainty she'd only encourage him. "Why me?"

He stepped back a few feet. "Who else would I take? O'Malley? No. Just… no. Yang? I might end up killing her if she doesn't kill me first. I can't be in the same room as Karev since the whole Addison thing and I already told Meredith that she couldn't use me in her ploy to escape Derek. So, babe, it was destined. You and me."

He stepped closer to her, taking her lack of movement as an invitation. "Why don't we take advantage of the opportunity?"

She shuddered. Masculinity was emanating off of him in waves. She tried to put that in the back of her mind as she thought about the situation she faced. Alone with McSteamy? Not good. Away from the incessant George and Callie love fest? Sounds like heaven.

"Okay."

His eyes widened as she turned around and gave him such a simple answer. "What? Really?"

She shook her head assertively. "Okay to the trip, not to you."

He smirked. In his mind, a yes was a yes, no matter what it's means. "Ever been to New York?"

She shook her head again, this time tentatively as if trying to decipher his intentions. "No."

He winked at her playfully. "Well, we'll make sure to get out of bed sometime so you can see the Empire State Building."

"Why leave? Can't we just get a room with a view? I'd hate to lose any time when we could be having hot animal sex," she replied sarcastically.

"Finally," he said with a lascivious grin, "a woman who speaks my language."

* * *

Two weeks later, Mark and Izzie sat on the plane to New York, their knees casually brushing one another's. She'd surprised everyone back at the hospital by not fighting Sloan when he'd chosen her to go with him, but maybe a separation from the hospital was what she needed most. Sloan she could handle; the emotions that ran rampant through her every time she saw the O'Malleys was harder to manipulate. However, as she sat next to him watching one of the flight attendants observe him hungrily, she had to stop and contemplate her decision.

She had to admit that he was trying his best to ignore the other woman, but there was something suspicious in that. When she saw the gorgeous flight attendant wink at him, she knew.

She turned her to look at him sharply. "Seriously?"

He smirked half-heartedly. "Seriously."

"Pig."

"Hey, hey, Stevens," he said with a mischievous smile, "that was before I became a one woman man."

She raised a brow at him in disbelief. "Uh huh. And just who is that one woman?"

"Meredith," he replied simply, his face solemn.

"What?"

He couldn't help but laugh at the way her eyes widened immensely. "Just kidding. It's you."

She settled back in place, realizing he had just reverted back into a playful mode. Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she feigned profound consideration. "Hmmm… it's too bad I'm not a one man kind of woman."

It was his turn to gaze at her curiously. "You don't actually believe I'm going to buy that, do you?"

"Yes." After a pause, she laughed. "Okay, no, but I'm still not your woman."

"Last week…" he started, shifting his eyebrows suggestively.

"…was wrong," she finished for him, crossing her arms. She glared at him as if daring him to challenge her.

"It…"

"… was a mistake," she said firmly, cutting him off once again.

Scowling, he settled further down into his seat. "The best ones always are," he muttered caustically, his bitterness razor sharp.

She glanced over at him, surprised by his sudden mood change and by her own response to it. She felt contrite and ashamed. Subtly watching him, she knew he was thinking about Addison. Who else? As far as she knew, Montgomery had been the only woman to ever really reach him. After letting him stew for a few minutes, she offered him her uneaten bag of pretzels.

He shook his head in refusal. She frowned and decided to try another route.

"So… let's talk. Are you over it yet?"

He didn't look at her. "Over what?"

"The conversation we just had?" She suggested, hesitantly. "The… relationship?"

He took so long to respond, she was beginning to doubt he would. Knowing her penchant for talking and his for avoiding it, she worried she'd erred. Wait… why did she care?

He looked over at her earnestly, something unmistakably on his mind. Clearing his throat, he started speaking uncertainly "How do you know… that what you have is a relationship? I mean an actual, serious relationship. I thought I had one with Addison, but the more I think about it… I think I was wrong. It was all in my head, something I wanted so much I imagined it possible. Know what I mean?" He laughed hollowly to himself. "No, of course you don't. Everyone loves you."

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, avoiding his gaze. "I know what you mean." And she definitely did. Sloan had unknowingly hit a sore spot. She may have accepted that they weren't going to be together, that it had been her own wishful thinking and her desperate need for love that had ruined their friendship, but that didn't mean her heart wasn't bleeding inside. She couldn't conceive fully of the pain, self-inflicted as it was. "I just can't explain it."

"Try." He was determined to get an answer.

She frowned and unnervingly looked up at him. As she spoke, her words became quicker and more heated. "It's real when… when you have feelings for someone and they… return them. It's as simple as that. Or at least it should be... When things don't get all fucked up. It's when you'd give anything to be with them and they would do the same, give up all sense of reason and obligation and… _everything…_just to be with you. It's communication and dedication and them not being fucking married to someone fucking else."

She let out a breath after her spiel and registered the look on his face. He was scowling, his countenance darkening before her eyes.

"That was a low blow. I know you hate me, but all I asked was a question."

She gasped, realizing he'd thought she was speaking of Addison again. Her mind had been solely on her own situation. "I…"

"We all can't be paragons of virtue and innocence like you," he spat out at her angrily. "I'm sorry to have offended your sensitivities."

"Shut up!" she snapped at him, grabbing his arm aggressively. "I wasn't talking about you!"

"Oh, really?" he question sarcastically. "Who else?"

"Me!" She exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of other passengers. She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. "It was me."

"What did you do, Princess?" He asked her, contempt echoing in the low tone of his throaty voice.

She glared at him, not wanting to meet his challenge, but unfortunately, the emotion behind her words was overwhelming and she gave in to its heavy flow. "George. I slept with George," she muttered following a heavy sigh. Tears started to spill from her eyes and she tried unsuccessfully to shake them away with a few twists of her head. He caught her cheek with one of his hands and held it in his palm. Reaching up to wipe away a few of the salty droplets, his hand never made it to her skin. She pulled away before he could touch her with his rough, warm hand. Grabbing the magazine she'd stuck in the back of the chair in front of her, she ignored him, not wanting either his scorn or his sympathy.

For long minutes, he watched her flip through the pages of Cosmo, trying hard to pretend she wasn't breaking inside. He knew that for a woman of her kind, the situation had to be devastating. She was so… good, but in a pleasant way, not a superior one as he had insinuated moments before in his ire.

Spotting an interesting article over her shoulder, he grinned. "You know, you shouldn't believe everything you read."

She glanced up at him, her tears having had time to dry on her face. She raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Oh really?"

He nodded, smirking devilishly. "Number four is not as exciting as it looks, trust me. But six? Wow. That's a position we have to try."

She glared fiercely in his direction, her annoyance radiating off of her. "I don't sleep with assholes."

He groaned mockingly. "Too bad. I know a lot more pleasurable positions than you'll ever learn in a magazine. And," he said with a leering gaze, "I'm an excellent teacher."

She dug her nails into his arm before casually turning her attention back to her magazine. "Not interested."

"That's a pity."

"But, just so you know," she replied without looking up, "I could make number four blow your mind."

He chuckled good-naturedly and settled back into his seat. Her irritation and playfulness were a lot better than her tears. The rest of their flight be fine now that she had her magazine and he had her boast to think very hardly about.

* * *

The pair reached their hotel shortly before six that night. Mark walked confidently up to the reception desk, Izzie following behind him closely. Sloan gave the woman behind the desk his name and was given a key. Izzie gave the receptionist hers, but was met with a blank look. The woman glanced between them and shook her head. "We only have you down for one room."

Izzie groaned. Now was not the time for Seattle Grace to start cutting their expenses. Not when she had suffered alongside of Mark Sloan all day, hearing his sexual innuendos and cunning comments. All she'd wanted by coming on this trip was a little peace and quiet, some time away from all thoughts of those she'd left behind in Seattle.

Sloan glanced over at Izzie, catching her horrified look. He took out his wallet and handed the receptionist a credit card. "We'll need another room. Charge it to my account."

Izzie met his eyes with surprise. She felt her heart give out a little as he smiled tenderly down at her. She grabbed one of his hands and squeezed it gently. Looking up at him sincerely, she whispered "thank you".

He nodded softly, tucking his wallet into his back pocket with his free hand. Not releasing the feminine hand he held in his other, he gazed down at her inquiringly.

"Dinner?"

Her mind told her to say no, but every other part of her body quickly acquiesced. She couldn't help herself.

"Sounds good."

* * *

**The second thing you shouldn't do with your enemy: Go away with him. Because when it's just him and you, the whole dynamic changes. What used to force you together is no longer there. What kept you apart is absent as well… leaving every moment open to opportunity and open to surprise.**


	4. Number 3

She woke up in an unfamiliar bed. However, unlike most of the times she'd ever roused in a similar situation, she was able to turn to her side and discover the other side of the bed empty, the sheets cold and unused. Sitting up in the bed, she found herself in her own hotel room. With that realization came pouring back the memories of the night before. Dinner with McSteamy.

Definitely something to remember.

Looking back, she groaned remembering the way she'd stressed over what she should wear. The halter to show off her shoulders or the slinky blouse that emphasized her breasts? The skirt with the slit or the one with the ruffles? So much for telling herself she didn't care. But, then again, what girl doesn't like getting dressed up or want to look good? It's not like she was dressing up for Mark Sloan. She was doing it for herself.

But, my God, he had sure liked that slit.

He'd taken her to a place that she was immediately charmed by: a small, Italian bistro with dim lighting and a scent reminiscent of baking bread. It had evidently been one of his regular haunts. The proprietor of the restaurant had come out to greet them personally, his face alight with elation at the sight of Sloan. He'd jokingly asked if the surgeon had finally come back to marry his daughter. Mark had laughed, obviously having taken part in the same conversation many times before, and motioned towards Izzie, who had rolled her eyes at being introduced as his date. She'd had the feeling that she was far different than any of the women he'd brought there before.

With a grimace, she recalled how right that thought had been. Just walking to their table, he'd nodded to a buxom blonde and greeted a few gorgeous brunettes by name. A brassy-looking redhead had glared at them with fiery eyes, leaving her to wonder whether or not some part of her body had been burnt to a crisp. How many women could one man know? He seemed to recognize each one he walked past, but if he didn't, it was sure that they attempted to get his notice. Pathetic.

Dinner, however, had been wonderful. Penne Rosa with mellow red wine unlike any she'd tasted before. Actually, simply sitting in such a refined setting had been an enjoyable experience. It had been so long since she'd been treated so well, had a dinner out, acted like a woman instead of a robotic intern. The mix was almost magical: the atmosphere, the setting, even the conversation.

They'd spoken in depth about a few of their patients, traded notes over some of their procedures, and casually discussed their friends. Well, her friends and his acquaintances, past lovers, former friends, and enemies. She'd commended him on his attempts to patch things up with Derek, while he had proven to her that he was able to speak outside of sexual innuendos and medical jargon.

In fact, he'd been full of surprises throughout the night.

_

* * *

_

_She finished laughing at one of his bizarre plastic surgery tales and looked at him seriously. His eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm as he talked about his work and she found herself wanting to know more, to know what secrets he was hiding._

"_You really love your work. I can tell."_

_His eyebrows shot up in curiosity at her statement, as if he wasn't expecting her curiosity. "I do."_

_She rested her head against her propped up arm and looked at him interestedly. "Why did you choose plastics?"_

_He shifted awkwardly in his chair, his discomfort at her prying obvious. But instead of shying away from the question as she expected, he answered it slowly. "I figured that… it's the only type of perfection I'll ever achieve. Physical perfection, that is. I'm not so self-destructive that I can't hope for a marginal degree of excellence."_

_Her eyes widened at his cynicism. She lifted her head and put a hand on his arm soothingly. "You don't give yourself enough credit."_

_He only stared at her blankly._

_

* * *

_

_After dinner, they leisurely walked back to the hotel, enjoying the cool evening. He walked her to her room and they awkwardly stared at one another after she unlocked the door. _

_She looked down at her feet, but when she met his gaze again, she was smiling lightly. "Thanks for dinner. It was… fun."_

_He chuckled at her amazement. "Don't sound so surprised."_

"_Sorry," she murmured, trying to downplay her grin. "I just wasn't expecting it."_

_He smiled sardonically. "I get that a lot." Replacing his expression with a mischievous one, he smirked slyly at her. "So… do I get to come in?"_

_She shook her head gently. "Don't push your luck."_

"_It was worth a try." Glancing away for a long moment and then back at her, he met her eyes with a sincere smile. "You were… charming. Just… so you know."_

_She gazed at him seriously, trying to interpret the sentiment behind his own startled eyes and soft, disconcerting smile. She turned her back to him to open the door to her room. Stepping inside, she called over her shoulder. "You coming?"_

_He looked up at her surprised. She swiveled around when he didn't follow immediately and answered the question she knew he was yearning to ask. "I might regret it in the morning, but… that's then and this is now."_

_He nodded and entered her room, slowly shutting the door behind him. When he turned, he was met by a soft feminine body colliding into his own. Grabbing her shoulders gently, he ran his large hands down her bare arms, sparking every nerve he touched. She shivered at the contact, snuggling closer into him as if to draw away his warmth. He dipped his head to touch his forehead to hers._

"_You're beautiful."_

_She smiled at him flirtatiously. "Is that a professional opinion?"_

"_Yes," he murmured, his voice coarse with desire. "It's my job to know women intimately." _

_His hands moved from her arms to the sides of her breasts, beginning a measured, torturous path down her body, stopping to fondle her exposed thigh. "It's my job to know every curve on the female form and memorize it. To know what women look like, feel like…"_

"…_Taste like?" she asked with baited breath._

_He grinned lasciviously. "If I'm lucky."_

_She caught his lips in an unhurried kiss, gently plunging her tongue between his lips. He pulled her closer and closer, holding her body firmly against his, taking hungrily every advance she made. She reached between them to grab his shirt, when he suddenly pulled away._

_He stared, so intently that she almost wanted to shy from his gaze. "What do you want Stevens?"_

_Her eyes narrowed. "Now?"_

_He shook his head, drawing back another foot to put a safe distance between them. "In general. Out of… everything. Anything."_

_She inhaled deeply to catch her breath. His stare was so fixed, she knew he wasn't leaving without an answer. Crossing her arms defensively over her chest, she spilled._

"_I want… love." He watched her as she looked away dreamily. "I want the real thing. Honest, true, undeniable, unavoidable, unending love. It exists. I believe it does. I know it's out there… somewhere. You only have to want it." She glanced back at him earnestly. "And I do."_

_He waited a long moment, just watching her let her own words sink in and absorbing them himself. _

_She was expecting a response, but was evidently not going to receive one without prying herself. "What do you want?"_

_He scoffed in self-deprecation. "I don't know."_

_She reached out to him slowly, wanting to take him into her arms, but he moved away, closing the distance between himself and the exit. _

"_Good night, Stevens."_

_She stopped abruptly, eyes widened. "Why?"_

_He opened the door and turned to look back at her. "What I do know is… that I don't want to be something you'll regret."_

_She stared at the door that closed behind him._

* * *

Yes, Mark Sloan was full of surprises. As she got out of bed, she thought to herself that she was in for an eventful day. Would he pretend the events of the previous night never happened? Would he want to continue their exchange? Would she ever forget the burn of his rejection? Would she discover the reason behind it?

Perhaps more importantly, though… Would he make her hate him once again?

Because, at the moment, all she felt was wonder.

* * *

**The third thing you shouldn't do with your enemy: Give him the upper hand. If you're not able to anticipate the next move that he'll make, you're defenseless to him. Unguarded, unsuspecting, and unsure, you're the perfect victim for acts of violence… or acts of love.**


	5. Number 4

_If this chapter disappoints or seems hurried, blame Lilly. She's the one that made my lazy butt get in gear to spit this out. Love ya, SS. Thanks to everyone who reads and/or reviews! Much love!_

* * *

At hearing the sharp knock on her hotel room door, she groaned. She didn't want to face him, not after what had occurred the night before. He'd turned her down and that had really just blown her mind. Seriously! But, if she didn't mention it, perhaps he wouldn't even remember. Sometimes guys don't even remember the times they do have sex, so why should he remember a certain time he didn't? Taking a deep breath, and scrambling to grab her purse on the way, she opened the door. 

Meeting his gaze after the swinging the wooden barrier aside, her plan fell through. At the hint of a devilish smirk, she blurted out her thoughts.

"You turned me down last night."

He raised his eyebrows, obviously startled. "Uh, yes."

She scrunched up her face in irritation and stuck a finger into his chest. "I offered you something- really hot sex, by the way- and you turned me down."

He glanced down at her finger and then back up at her expression. "I'm sorry. Are you mad?"

She quickly stole her hand away and grimaced. "At myself, yes!"

He surveyed her downcast countenance. "Why? Shouldn't you be mad at me?"

She sighed heavily and raggedly ran a hand through her hair. "It's my fault. I let you have power over me," she replied with a shrug.

"Um, I'm sorry."

She waved away his apology, murmuring distractedly, "Thanks." After a pause, she looked up at him with a resolute glint in her eye. "There's only one way to rectify this situation."

He smirked, sensing he was going to find her idea amusing. "Does it involve one of us on our knees?"

"No," she answered assertively. "You have to come on to me and I have to turn you down."

He laughed. "Isn't that what always happens? How is that a new idea?"

She shook her head resolutely. "This time it's different. We've got this weird thing going on and this time it will mean something. Okay?"

"Okay…" His look clearly spoke of his confusion. She motioned with her hand, indicating he should proceed.

He stepped forward and gently took her face into his hands. His rough thumbs grazed against her soft cheeks, which colored at the touch. Staring down into her wide brown eyes, he shot her a silly, affectionate grin. She felt her knees weaken beneath her, threatening to falter and leave her in a helpless puddle at his feet. He removed one hand from her face and slid it around her waist, effectively yanking her into his chest. His heated breath warmed her lips as he looked down upon her.

"Dr. Stevens… would you be interested in going out with me tonight?" His arm tightened around her, pushing her breasts closer into his body. The contact sent her heart racing, his smoldering gaze only escalating the fire within her.

When she didn't answer right away, he took it upon himself to press further. "Dinner?" he questioned, his voice throaty and resonant. "A movie?" He leaned down and gently touched her nose with his, their lips seconds apart. "Dessert?"

She gasped. Her heart pounded in quick, relentless beats; her body trembled. Every awakened nerve in her body wanted to agree, wanted to scream aloud for immediate gratification.

"Uhhh…. No."

He released all hold on her and backed away, seemingly unflustered and wholly imperturbable. "Okay." He paused. "Well, did that help make everything right in your mind?"

She blinked. "No."

In fact, she'd just realized she was in more trouble than she'd already imagined.

* * *

He led the way into the conference room, while she followed closely behind. He'd greeted several people that they had passed, and she had definitely noticed how a majority of those people were women. Gorgeous, successful women. She had simply shaken her head at them, valiantly resisting the urge to hand them tissues to wipe up their drool. Finally, they were able to find a pair of empty seats just off-center with a good view of the stage. Looking around at the scores of fellow doctors, Izzie was feeling a little overwhelmed. 

"There's so many people here! Was I supposed to bring something?"

He looked at her curiously. "Like what?"

She shrugged. "Paper? For notes?"

He tapped her hand comfortingly. "Don't worry about it. I can tell you anything you'd like to know."

She rolled her eyes at his arrogance, but settled in to her seat to listen to the first speaker, an attractive brunette by the name of Cynthia Knowles.

By the middle of the speech, it had become blatantly obvious that though she was speaking, Dr. Knowles was focusing on one audience member in general. At first, Izzie had found the woman's intense concentration and hungry eyes amusing, but slowly irritation seeped into her features. She wanted to stand up and scream to the woman that the poor man wasn't just a piece of meat, but instead, she turned to whisper to the object of such unconcealed desire.

"She's undressing you with her eyes," she muttered beneath her breath.

He leaned closer to her and winked. "She's probably just trying to picture me naked to fight an overpowering fear of public speaking."

She scowled back, crossing her arms in annoyance. "Yeah, I'm sure that's it."

He had noticed the other woman's attention, but had paid no heed to it. He was used to such stares and they usually had no effect on him. However, now that Izzie Stevens had taken issue with it, he was certainly interested in the situation. Glancing over at her, he had to grin at her obvious displeasure and the palpable tension emanating off of her. Her narrowed eyes glared at the speaker, her stare cold, yet blistering.

Suddenly, she smiled to herself mischievously. He widened his eyes in surprise as he watched her lay a hand on his arm. His gaze followed the trail it made, rubbing up and down from his shoulder to his open palm. He smirked, though unexpectedly seduced at the touch. She smiled back up at him. Glancing over at the woman watching intently from the stage, her grin grew wider.

She lay her head against him, using his shoulder to prop her up. When he didn't respond to the touch, she nudged him and glared up into his eyes, silently pleading him to play along. He swung his arm around her and she snuggled into his masculine frame, acting like a couple at the movies more than a pair of professional surgeons. He shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as he did. But, an irrationally jealous Izzie Stevens attempting to stake a claim on him? That seemed like something to celebrate.

* * *

After the conference had concluded, he stood near the exit, while Izzie used the restroom. At hearing a feminine cough behind him, he turned around. What he saw was no a statuesque blonde, but rather the morning's first speaker. 

"Dr. Knowles," he said, acknowledging her with a nod.

She gave a flirty laugh. "Call me Cynthia. What did you think of my speech?"

He politely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her demeanor of self-importance. "Nothing earth-shattering. I've seen it all before."

Her eyes narrowed, displaying her agitation at the remark. "Oh really? Who might you be?"

He smirked self-assuredly. "Dr. Mark Sloan-- plastic surgeon."

The woman's face lit up. She ran a hand through her dark hair and smiled up at him playfully. "Wow, I'm impressed. That's a name everyone knows. Say, what do you say about grabbing a drink and sharing a few secrets… of the trade?"

He knew what she meant and knew that their profession was the last thing on her mind. About the respond, he paused when he felt a hand on his back.

"Miss me?"

Both he and Cynthia turned to look at Izzie as she boldly joined the pair. He grinned, while Knowles scowled in exasperation. "Who are you? A _doctor_?" By the tone of her voice, it was apparent that she thought otherwise.

Izzie beamed and grabbed Mark's hand possessively. "Isobel Stevens. And yes, I am a doctor." She tossed her long blonde hair a little and threw back her shoulders. "And a model."

Turning away confidently, she dragged Sloan with her. He lasted only moments before he burst out loud with laughter. "Wow. I don't know what to say."

"Shut up," she spat at him.

He regained a little composure as they stopped at the elevator that would lead them back up to their hotel rooms. With a cough, he murmured, "she wanted me."

Izzie scowled. "This trip isn't about sex."

The doors opened and they stepped inside. Standing beside her, he mumbled his reply. "No, of course not. We wouldn't want that."

They rode the rest of the way in silence, each contemplating what had just happened. She found herself annoyed at the other woman's actions, but also perturbed at her own. Since when did she care that someone hit on McSteamy? She didn't. Except, well, she did. And that change of events pissed her off.

He, meanwhile, was both amused at her actions and confused by them. Her jealous was entertaining and surprisingly welcome, but the moodiness emanating off of her currently was exasperating. Did she want him or not?

As they came to stop in front of her door, he stopped her from brushing him away by putting a hand on her arm. "Stevens, I'm not sure where all of this is coming from-"

"Shut up," she grumbled, cutting him off. Quickly throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him passionately, expressing all of her intensity through the one move. He caught her around the waist and let himself give in to the temptation of her sweet taste and ravenous lips. As he felt himself slowly succumbing to her, he pulled away slightly, giving her room to change her mind.

"You know, you say that a lot."

She breathed in heavy pants, trying to catch her breath. "Say what? Shut up?"

He nodded. "Yes. Are you using me for my body?"

She gazed curiously into his face, instantly noting the devilish smirk and twinkling eyes. "Right now?"

He nodded.

"Yes. Enjoy it."

Opening the door to her room, she led him in by pulling his tie. Once the door was locked behind them, it was the first thing she removed from his body. He watched her movements, feeling his own attraction to her mounting. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, taking meticulous care, a mind-numbingly slow pace. His breathing hitched. Unable to let her have control, to torture him in her slow, sensuous way, he grabbed her and walked her backwards. She hit the bed and he gently pushed her down on to it, lowering himself above her. She watched with eager, ravenous eyes as he removed his undershirt and dark slacks before turning his attention to her.

He ran his large hands up the side of her body, sweeping her blouse over her head as he did so. He pressed lazy, meandering kisses over her chest, gently nipping at the cleavage spilling from her bra. Reaching behind her to undo its clasp, his eyes widened in approval as he removed the offensive object. Her exposed chest lay before him, aching for his loving ministration. He reverently palmed her soft breasts, his hot breath on her nipples causing her to shudder in satisfaction. She moaned as the tip of his tongue drew circles around each, while she tugged him closer to her.

He shifted one hand to the waistband of her skirt, traveling it down the silky fabric until he felt the warmth of her soft skin. Moving it up her inner thigh at a snail's pace, she panted in need, wanting only his touch. He dipped one of his fingers into her cleft, feeling only hot wetness. She gasped.

"More."

He looked up at her questioningly. "I thought you said this trip wasn't about sex."

She couldn't think. The only coherent thoughts echoing through her mind were those of sheer desperation. "Uhhh…."

He smiled to himself. "It's okay, Stevens. I didn't want her anyway. But you? That's a different story."

He removed his finger and drew back to slide the remainder of her clothing from her body. Sitting up before her, he gazed down at the luscious naked form below him, whose eyes flashed with need, desiring only him. He'd never felt more alive… or more valued.

He shucked off his boxers, found protection, and settled himself between her legs once again. Holding her face in his hands, he softly, tenderly kissed her lips. "I like your lips…"

She smiled. He kissed them again. "… and your breasts…"

He ran his hands over each, enjoying the softness.

"… and your long legs…"

He raised them, massaging her inner thighs delicately.

"and I have a newfound appreciation of your jealous side."

At that smart remark, she should have scowled. But as he buried himself deep inside her, she had to admit that if it led to feeling this good, so did she.

* * *

**The fourth thing you shouldn't do with your enemy: Fight _for_ him. You're supposed to hate him; the desire to best him more important than anything. Behind the action of warring with someone is the notion that one side will win and the other will lose. But if battle lines get crossed, complications arise. What do you do at the threat of sabotage? **

**What do you do when the traitorous one… is your heart?**


	6. Number 5

_Well, this is it. The end has come. If you've stuck with me through all my indecision and laziness, thank you! (I admit not seeing a new Grey's every week really gets a girl down!) To everyone who reads and/or responds: another thank you! Much love. :) See you at my next fic, I hope! --Amanda_

_P.S... Look Team: I did it!_

* * *

Her first thought as she opened her eyes in the morning was surprise at having slept at all. To say that the previous night had changed everything would be an understatement. It had been life-altering. But it wasn't the sex, as amazing as it had been, that had thrown her for a loop and kept her awake all night thinking. It was everything that had come with it. The passion that she knew he'd had, the tenderness she hadn't been aware of, the reciprocity that she had overwhelmingly needed to give him… the sneaking suspicion that she'd turned a corner in her life and could never go back.

He stirred at her side and tightened his hold on her. She couldn't help but smile and be enveloped by his warmth, while she had it, for a few moments longer.

* * *

They were on their way down to the lobby when he looked at her, his eyes light and smiling. "So, I'm thinking you own me an apology, Stevens." 

She looked up at him curiously. "What for?"

He grinned. "For making me pay for another room when we only needed one."

She narrowed her eyes at him, his joke somehow biting at her. "Would you rather have stayed in your own room last night?"

He only laughed in response. "Well the bed _would _have been bigger…and I wouldn't have your wildcat claw marks all over my chest."

She had the grace to look ashamed. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he murmured with a wink. "I'm going to have to let you out of your cage more often."

She smirked, internally alight with pleasure. "One time offer. I'm going back to the zoo today."

She watched his smile falter and then realized what he was thinking. They were returning to Seattle, where they each had roles to fulfill, expectations to satisfy. Where did their… relationship… fit in? Or did it not at all?

The clerk behind the counter called out to them and they looked over, surprised to see the line had evaporated. Mark went over to check out, leaving Izzie behind to stew over her thoughts, which ran parallel to his own.

When he turned around a couple of minutes later, what he saw unexpectedly made his blood boil. His blonde intern was being hit on by another man, one who was leaning in far too close for comfort. He wasn't going to put up with that. With a swear, he walked towards the pair, ready for a fight, yet mentally berating himself for being jealous. He'd never had a possessive nerve in his body, at least in regards to women, before, not even Addison. Seeing her with Karev, he was more disappointed and annoyed at himself than anything. But with Izzie Stevens…

She sensed his approached and caught his eye. The guy encroaching on her personal space followed her gaze. With one look at Sloan, he was gone.

As Mark came to stand beside her, he scowled down into her wide eyes. "You don't want him."

She scoffed. "I don't?" With an inquisitive look she questioned, "Do you know him?"

A sharp nod answered her query. "He's a physical therapist," he spat. "Not even a real doctor."

She glared into his eyes, daring him to continue. "That doesn't matter to me. I appreciate people for who they are."

He crossed his arms over his chest and held her gaze for a long moment. Finally, with a sigh, he acquiesced. "I'm beginning to see that."

She let out a harsh breath, not willing to let him off the hook so easily. "It's not a bad thing, you know."

He bent down to grab hold of their luggage before meeting her gaze once again. "I know," he commented with a halfhearted smile. In fact, if he were willing to admit it to himself, that characteristic of hers, as frightening as he might find it, was one of the things that made her so special… to him.

* * *

Hours later, they sat side by side on the flight back to Seattle. He glanced over at her and immediately noticed her tense countenance. 

"What's the matter?"

She gave him a soft smile. "Just thinking about going home."

"Ah," he commented with a sigh. "O'Malley?"

After a pause, she gave in and nodded. "Yeah. But you know what?" Her grin widened, which caused him to brighten as well. "I feel like this time away was what I needed. It's probably going to be awkward to go back, but… I think I'm up for it." Sobering slightly, laying a comforting hand on his arm, she asked of him, "How about you?"

He looked down at her hand, itching to cover it with his own. "I'm up for anything now," he replied, meeting her eyes sincerely.

She beamed, missing the depth of his words. "I'm glad. I would hate to see Dr. Montgomery keep you down."

He glanced away, avoiding her gentle stare. "I didn't love Addison. I realize that now." She gasped and he returned his gaze to her eyes. "I wanted to love her. I wanted to be Derek."

She frowned in response, and ran her hand soothingly up his arm. "You should want to be Mark," she told him quietly.

He nodded. "I know," he admitted, his eyes locked with hers. "And now, I do."

She grinned, her eyes glowing. Laying her head against his shoulder, she sighed. "I never did see the Empire State Building. I blame you."

He hesitantly slipped his arm around her, unsure if she'd find it appropriate. "Next time."

Her eyes widened. "There's going to be a next time?"

He chuckled. "Maybe. If you're lucky."

Or rather, he thought, if he was.

**

* * *

**

Mark opened the passenger door and gestured for her to get in. She sniffled in thanks. He rolled his eyes at her crying form and went around to hop in the driver's seat.

"I can't believe you liked that movie."

She wiped at her eyes with her shirtsleeve. "How could you not? It was beautiful."

He shuddered. "It was torture. They should know better than to play a chick flick on an airplane, where we rational people can't get up and leave."

She scowled over at him. "Like you even watched it! You were looking at me the whole time."

True, he thought with a grin. "Well, that was a lot more entertaining."

She dabbed at her eyes again. "You really didn't like it? Not even a little bit?"

"No," he declared, shaking his head.

Her frown deepened. "You seriously have no taste. It was so romantic. When he gave up everything to be with her, I could have died of happiness right on the spot. Now that's love. Real, true, everlasting love. Oh, I wish… Wait, you're doing it again!"

"Doing what?", he questioned.

She motioned at herself. "Staring at me. But, this time, you're supposed to be driving."

He turned his gaze back to the road. "I can't help it."

"Why?"

He quickly glanced at her and was met by her curious expression. He shrugged, but chose to reply. "You get this faraway look on your face when you talk about…"

"Love," she finished for him.

He nodded. "Yeah."

They sat in silence for minutes, before he decided to continue. "Do you remember when I asked you what you wanted most?"

"Yes," she replied hesitantly. "I said love."

"Right. You had that same look on your face then." He stopped, feeling ridiculous and very unlike himself. However, when she grasped one of his hands with hers, he gave in and resolved to take a chance.

"I've finally decided what I want most."

She gave him a tender smile and asked supportively, "What is it?"

He met her eyes sincerely. "It's that, one day, when I see you with that look on your face… I'll know you're thinking of me." He let out a self-deprecating chuckle and shrugged. "Do I have a chance?"

She let his words sink in before responding, her mind swarming with powerful emotions, recalling every word they'd ever exchanged, every touch she'd ever felt, every misconception she'd ever had. She'd thought him a coldhearted jerk, but the uneasy man before her was neither unfeeling nor a complete cad. True, he was still Mark Sloan, but…perhaps she hadn't known who that really was before now, before she'd given him an opportunity to prove her wrong.

Glancing at him, she nodded. "I'll give you more than a chance. How about a guarantee?"

Relieved, he grinned in response. A mischievous twinkle came into his eyes. "Now that's what I like to hear. So… your place or mine?"

She shook her head, smiling. "Neither."

His eyes widened. "Seriously?"

She laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Yep. If you want to woo me, I need romance."

He grimaced, but caught her hand in his own. "Like dating?"

She nodded. "Right."

"I've never done that," he admitted with a nervous grin. "I don't think I know how."

She squeezed his hand. "You'll figure it out. But, you know, if you'd watched the movie, you would have gotten some ideas."

He scowled, which made her laugh again. "Would it kill you to help me figure it out a little?"

She stretched towards him to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Trust me-- I'm on your side."

* * *

**The final thing you shouldn't do with your enemy: Surrender to him. Once that happens, it's game over; you lose. Your struggle was for naught. The only people who say that all's fair in love and war are those who are winning. The rest of us? We're at their mercy. **

**Never surrender-- not if you want him to remain your enemy… and not, say, the love of your life.**


End file.
